


Spaghetti but not Meatballs

by badwolfbadwolf



Series: Teen Woof Tumblr Fics [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, M/M, post season 3B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:12:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Isaac starts sleeping in Allison’s bed, and it breaks Chris’ heart clean through, surprised he has enough of it left to be torn apart again."</p><p>Or, how Chris and Isaac find each other after Allison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spaghetti but not Meatballs

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Rzeczy lubiane i nielubiane](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968309) by [Martynax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martynax/pseuds/Martynax)



Isaac starts sleeping in Allison’s bed, and it breaks Chris’ heart clean through, surprised he has enough of it left to be torn apart again.  He sits down on the bed, watching Isaac sleep, Isaac’s long limbs tangled up in the blankets and well-worn shirt rucked up.  Chris doesn’t want to wake him, wants to let him stay cocooned in warmth, wants to keep him safe and snug and away from the press of grief.  

Isaac flinches awake, fear flicking over his features in a well-trained response before smoothing away into a dull hollowness that echoes the exact feeling in Chris’ chest.

“Time for school,” Chris says, feeling like an automaton.  Isaac shifts under the blankets, drawing them up to his chin, looking more like a boy than a teenager with sleep-mussed hair and a crust on his eyes.  He turns to glance at the clock, frowning, the blanket twisting in his fingers as they sit in silence for a moment.

“Life goes on,” Isaac finally says, not meeting Chris’ eyes.  “We’re going on.  But she’s not.”

Chris feels the pain wash over him anew.  Before Isaac he could compartmentalize.  But before Isaac, he still had her.  At six a.m. with a lost teenage werewolf in his daughter’s bed, it feels like a sucker punch to his gut.  Because Isaac always says the things Chris keeps locked up so tightly.

“It’ll be okay,” Chris gets out, though the words sound flat even to his ears.  He sets his hand on Isaac’s shin, the boy wincing at the unexpected touch, and Chris pulls it back immediately.  

Tears are shining on the edges of Isaac’s eyes and Chris feels so incredibly lost as one sniff turns into a gasp and then Isaac is crying and burying his face in the pillow.  Chris finds himself moving up on the bed, drawing Isaac’s head into his lap and petting through his mop of hair, Isaac letting him this time.  He snuffles into Chris’ thigh, the sobs harsh for a moment before dying down until they are both quiet again, just listening to the birds outside the window and the occasional huff from Isaac.

“Can I stay home from school today?” Isaac asks in a quiet, shaky voice, and Chris doesn’t have it in him to say no.

It’s weeks later in the middle of the night when Chris’ eyes fly open at the creak of his bedroom door.  A wolf creeps forward steadily, Isaac’s lanky figure casting a long shadow on the hardwood, the full moon looming large in the windows.  He crawls into the bed without a word and Chris lies there, holding his breath, his chest strangely tight.  

They don’t speak, just stare at the ceiling until Chris can hear Isaac’s breathing turn into a soft snoring.  Chris re-checks his gun in the nightstand drawer and pulls the covers tighter, ignoring the thought that he has a teenage boy sleeping in his bed next to him and the fact that this makes him feel better and not worse.

Isaac’s gone when Chris wakes up, but he slips in the next night and curls up under the covers.  The following night he has the guts to steal the blankets.  

They never talk about it, but Isaac laughs more now, the sides of his eyes crinkling in a way Chris had never noticed before.  He buys Chris ice cream and they eat it from the carton, watching black and white movies on a Tuesday night while the rest of the world sleeps.  Chris picks Isaac up from practice and asks him about his day, and learns he likes spaghetti but not meatballs.  

The first time they kiss they're in the hallway and Isaac's laughing, his mouth open against Chris’, chest heaving as he tries to draw in breath.  The warm air tickles against Chris’ lips, Isaac so light against him, nerves suddenly whirling through him with newness and excitement.  It’s only a kiss though, and they walk back to the kitchen and sit at the table, Chris trying to pretend he’s still the same person he was two minutes ago.

After that, Isaac doesn’t sneak into Chris’ bed in the dark.  He has his own lamp on the nightstand, and a book resting there, too.  Isaac fits against Chris perfectly, snuggled into him tightly, the little spoon to Chris’ big.  Isaac steals the covers again, but Chris finds he doesn’t mind.


End file.
